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into unconsciousness, then was he not equally capable of sending a Tribe that apparently worked with him to kill his own daughter? Obviously this man had no problem getting his hands dirty—or at least asking others to do it for him. Bile rose in my throat at the thought of his blood also flowing in my veins. I shied away from that thought.
    Surely he was lying. It was just a coincidence we had similar features and he was using them to his advantage. Banking on the idea that if he told the poor orphaned teen that she still had family, she might cling to him and ultimately give him what he wanted. Too bad for Fandrin I didn’t actually need anyone. What I needed was for the other people I loved to survive—but me personally, I had always been my best when I was alone. Against the odds. Bring on the solitary confinement, it felt like home.
    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. As much as I wanted to think about Triven and Mouse, it was a luxury I couldn’t afford. They were my one weakness and if I was to survive this—if I was to return to them—I needed to shut them out for now. There could be no pining over my lost friends, or worrying about their safety. They were alive and if I wanted to see them again, I needed to leave my thoughts at that. Loving them had made me soft and now was not the time for weakness.
    Just as I locked that allegorical door in my mind, the actual door to my cell opened. I didn’t move, but stared expectantly at the opening as if bored. I was surprised that the boy who entered was not much older than myself. He was striking. The lines of his face were nearly perfect. He had a wide chin and prominent cheekbones that were accented by a long straight nose and high brow. The only imperfection on his otherwise flawless face was a small scar above his left eye. His uniform was similar to the one I had seen The Minister wearing. Slim fitted, tailored white pants and a sharply cut jacket enhanced his already broad physique. Only one silver bar adorned each of his shoulders but several metallic badges crossed the left breast pocket of his uniform, beneath the same round badge I had seen on The Minister. This was an officer. It became apparent officers wore white. Soldiers wore silver, like I had seen in the streets. He stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back as his bright blue eyes looked me over. His jet-black hair was as equally manicured as his suit. Short on the sides with a little more on the top. He was clearly a high-ranking officer in The Sanctuary’s military.
    I instantly recognized him from the room where I had been interrogated, but at the time he had seemed of little importance. Just another white suit in a room filled with uniforms. Now, however, I realized I should not have overlooked him so carelessly before.
    “Get up.” The soldier barked. The loathing in his eyes was nearly palpable.
    I glared back at him unmoving. “What, the old man miss me already?”
    His hand flashed out with impressive speed, the back striking my cheek so hard it felt as if my eye would explode from its socket. I fell face first into the mattress from the force of his blow and struggled to right myself. I wanted to laugh at him, to make him feel insecure about his strength, but my head was pounding again and my voice seemed to be stuck in my throat. His fingers coiled around the back of my neck as he pulled his lips to my ear.
    “Say anything like that again and you will be dragged out of here in a body bag, Princess .” His lips grazed my earlobes as he spoke.
    Instinctively, I twitched away from him.
    I am not sure what it was about the “princess” that bothered me so much, but whether it was the connotation the name carried or the way he said it, I instantly loathed that nickname.
    “Got it?” His hissed giving my neck a sharp shake.
    I glanced at one of the shining silver badges on his chest. The round emblem had two rigidly sculpted wings at the bottom. Three disjointed rings